


Sword and Circle:  Pay Time

by beccaelizabeth



Series: Sword and Circle [4]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-06-08
Updated: 1998-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccaelizabeth/pseuds/beccaelizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie and Methos' relationship is for once going great, but old debts leave a price to pay, and Konoval is here to collect.</p><p>Same story, different rating - probably the more coherent version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sword and Circle:  Pay Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to AC for beta reading, helpful comments, and translating  
> from that strange dialect known as British.
> 
> Highlander: where everybody dies and you still get to play with them later. This is not warm fuzzy happy stuff, this is fights to the death and the resulting fallout. But I did remember all the warnings.

Pay Time part 1

 

"So Mac, what did you think of my kind of cultural evening?" Richie  
asked, grinning, as they walked back to their cars.

"A couple of hours of a body builder with no real martial arts skill  
blowing up a hundred people for no reason I could figure out , and a  
ten minute sex scene that had absolutely nothing to do with the  
plot. That was meant to be cultural?" Mac replied.

"Yeah, pop culture. Maybe you've heard of it. Or maybe not, I mean  
they only invented it this century. In a couple of hundred years  
you'll be dragging some other street kid to movies like that and  
explaining how they're still relevant to the 22nd century."

"You can't compare that to opera," Mac said.

Methos chimed in with "Oh, I don't know, long drawn out death  
scenes, a plot no one can understand, most of it about sex. Sounds  
about right to me. I knew a couple of composers who would have  
written stuff like that if they had had the effects budget. All in  
all I found it a rather interesting evening," he finished, smirking  
at Richie.

"Well you would, considering you two spent most of the evening  
kissing. Honestly, it was getting embarrassing to be sat next to  
you," Mac said.

"Well if you were watching us rather than the film no wonder you  
lost track of the plot," Methos observed.

"I was not watching, just with all the noise you two were making it  
was a bit difficult to ignore," Mac objected.

"Watching and listening," Richie noted to Methos with a smirk.

"You think maybe he's jealous?" Methos smirked back at him, then,  
being really camp, said to Mac "Really, Highlander, if you wanted to  
join in, you only had to say."

Mac laughed, and as they had reached the cars he fished out his  
keys, making sure to zip his coat securely against the damp chilly  
weather. "Well, it isn't that late. I'm going to Joe's. You two  
coming?"

Methos and Richie looked at each other, and from the sparks flying  
it was quite clear they both had other things in mind.

"I think we'll pass on that," Methos replied.

"What, you, turning down free beer?" Mac grinned.

"It's the millennium, you gotta expect a few miracles," Richie  
joked.

"I keep telling you, these legends about me get quite overstated.  
I'm not that insatiable," Methos protested.

"Yeah? Could of fooled me," Rich said, and locked eyes with his  
lover again.

It was definitely time to leave those two alone. "I'll see you  
tomorrow, then," Mac said, getting into his car.

"Yeah, see you. Say hi to Joe for me," Rich said, wandering  
towards his bike.

"And say to tell the band get well soon. A little flu epidemic  
shouldn't be allowed to get in the way of great music," Methos  
called back over his shoulder, following Richie.

"I'll tell him," Mac promised, and then studiously paid attention  
to the road as he drove off, definitely not noticing what Methos was  
trying to do to Richie while Rich was trying to get his helmet on.

-end part one-

Pay Time 2/8

 

The next morning Richie and Methos woke up pleasantly together, then  
Rich got the first shower, keeping Methos out saying something about  
how he really ought to go to work one day this week. While Methos  
showered Richie started breakfast and got dressed, choosing tight  
black jeans and T-shirt, dressing to show off for his lover.  
* Lover *. He remembered how the idea of using that word to refer  
to Methos had once scared him, even repulsed him, but now he just  
got a rather soppy grin on his face at the thought.

When Methos came out of the shower with one towel wrapped around his  
waist and using another to dry his hair Rich's grin turned very  
appreciative. Methos noticed and moved so as to deliberately show  
off his sparsely muscular physique.

Rich put some toast on the plate of breakfast he had cooked and set  
it at the table. Methos sat down, wrapping one arm around Richie's  
waist as he did so.

"Mmm, bacon," the ancient one smirked. He picked up a piece and  
offered it to Richie. "Join me?"

Richie sighed and sternly told his body he really didn't have time  
right now.

His body really wasn't listening.

Richie turned up for work at the dojo rather late, and with a grin  
so wide you expected his face to fall in half.

"Good morning, Mac. Have fun at Joe's last night?" Richie asked  
cheerfully.

"I suppose I don't even have to ask if you had fun last night," Mac  
said. Richie just grinned even more, something Mac hadn't thought  
physically possible a moment ago. "Actually I didn't stay long.  
Turned out Joe had caught that flu as well, and the place was  
practically empty."

"Like here today," Richie remarked, looking round. "Seems like  
everyone's sick."

"That's what epidemic means," Mac shrugged. "Seeing as it's so  
quiet you can update the accounts."

"Gee, thanks Mac, just what I needed for a perfect day," Richie  
said, and wandered towards the office. He turned back as he thought  
of something. "Oh, can I have a long lunch today? I said I'd meet  
Adam."

Mac looked at the totally empty room. "I don't know, I might need  
help with the rush..." he said sarcastically. "Sure, no problem."

Richie got stuck in to updating the accounts, and soon he was  
surrounded by little piles of paper and swearing at the computer for  
turning perfectly straightforward calculations into a spreadsheet  
that seemed to tell them they were millionaires. By the time lunch  
rolled around he needed the break, and since hardly anyone had  
dropped in all day he figured Mac didn't need him for a while. He  
said his goodbyes to Mac and left, grinning at the thought of what  
he'd find when he got home. That morning Methos had promised  
something very special for his lunch, and with Methos that probably  
meant the food was secondary.

***************************************************

Once Rich had left his apartment that morning Methos took a shower  
and finished breakfast. He was in a really good mood. In fact, he  
kept on catching himself wandering around with a rather stupid  
looking grin all over his face. He tried to replace it with a more  
dignified expression, but even putting three day old clothes back on  
couldn't dampen his mood. As he headed out to his hired car he was  
actually whistling. The weather was cold, wet and miserable but the  
whole world looked bright this morning. His hotel room was as small  
and dingy as he remembered it, but he hadn't really spent much time  
there anyway.

As he changed into fresh clothes he came to a decision. In the week  
and a half he'd been in town, he had paid for this room every day,  
but only ended up using it once, and then Richie had been there.  
Why keep on wasting money? That decided, he repacked his bag and  
wandered downstairs to check out, still grinning. Even the desk  
clerk's refusal to give him back his deposit didn't ruin his good  
mood. It had only been one chair, old but not the antique they  
seemed to be charging him for. Admittedly, it probably hadn't been  
designed for two adult men, but he really hadn't expected it to fall  
apart like that. Still, he walked back to his car in high spirits.

He went shopping for ingredients for what he had in mind for lunch.  
Chocolate, strawberries, champagne, way more than they could consume  
for one meal, but he was celebrating. And he didn't really expect  
to do much eating anyway. The check out girl wondered vaguely why  
he was smirking quite like that as he handed over the money.

Back to the car, and back to Richie's place. He took his bag up  
first, then went back to the car for the shopping, grinning again.  
&gt;&gt;Face it, Methos, there isn't anything that can break this mood.  
You're in love with someone who loves you, and the world is good.&gt;&gt;  
He reached in to the car to get the shopping bags.

Right then there was a muffled crack and a sharp impact in his back.  
Looking down at the blood spurting out the hole in his chest into  
the back of his car, he had time to think vaguely, &gt;&gt;Okay, anything  
except that.&gt;&gt;

-end part 2-

 

Pay Time 3/8

 

Mac was sitting in his office idly reading the paper when Richie  
phoned.

"Hello, DeSalvo's..."

"Mac! Something's happened to Methos... I mean Adam... I mean..."  
Richie said, sounding panicked.

"Richie, calm down. What..."

"His car is right outside, there's groceries all around it, the  
trunk's open and there's blood and a bullet hole in the back. He's  
nowhere Mac. There's no pool of blood, no footprints, nothing. He  
can't of just wandered off and left all the doors open, he would  
have left a note... Mac, he would have got back hours ago, he's just  
gone!" Rich blurted out.

"Rich, you sure there's nothing? And a bullet hole..."

"Yeah, Mac, I've seen enough to know. No body, no Immortal,  
nothing. He's not there is he? He hasn't phoned you?"

"No, I haven't heard from him since last night. What do you..."

"I tried phoning Joe but he's not answering. I'm going over there,  
Mac, I'll meet you there. -click-..." and Richie had put the phone  
down and probably left, hardly letting Mac get a word in edgewise in  
the whole conversation.

"He doesn't have a Watcher, Rich..." Mac swore and pressed the ring  
back button, but the phone just rang, not even letting the answer  
phone pick up. He shoved the phone down and grabbed his coat.

**********************************************************

When MacLeod got to Joe's, Richie spared him barely a glance before  
going back to his argument. Joe was up, grouchy, looking rather  
worse for wear and coughing occasionally, but Richie hardly noticed.  
He was trying to get information about Methos, and he wasn't going  
to let logic put him off.

"Joe, you've got to know something. I know, you're not watching  
him, but maybe my Watcher saw him. Or maybe there's a new Immortal  
in town you could find out about. Or maybe..."

"Richie! I keep telling you, I don't have that kind of information.  
I cannot help you. This isn't about Watcher vows, it's about damn  
near every Watcher in this area being down with flu except a few  
research staff, and I wasn't about to send them out in the field.  
As far as I know, you three are the only Immortals in town, but the  
damn Gathering could be happening down the block and we wouldn't  
have the manpower to cover it! Anyway, Immortals do not shoot  
Immortals. It's usually mortals who do that. Adam probably got  
mugged and they hid the body somewhere. Did you check the garbage  
cans?"

"Yes, I checked the bins, I checked the alley, I went blocks in  
every direction looking for signs of a Quickening. There was  
nothing Joe. And a mugger would not have left Adam's wallet and  
keys lying there on the seat of a very expensive car while they went  
for a walk with his body!"

"Rich, this isn't helping. Just calm down," Mac interjected  
helpfully.

"Calm down? Mac, Methos could be * dead * !"

"We don't know that."

"If he is, I want you to promise me one thing. * I * get the guy  
that took him."

"Richie..."

"Mac, this is important to me. You know why. If somebody's killed  
him I want that Quickening. Swear to me."

"Rich..."

"Mac! You have to let me do this."

"Look, okay, just calm down, sit down and..."

They both stopped and turned to the door as they felt the approach  
of another Immortal, Richie's face hopeful, Mac more worried.

The tall, blonde, muscular figure in the expensive suit that entered  
was not familiar. At least not to Richie.

"Konoval," MacLeod swore, reaching for his sword. "Where is he?"

"Good to see you again too, Highlander. Been a long time. We have  
some unfinished business, I think," Konoval smiled arrogantly and  
swaggered towards the bar...

&lt;=====  
Flashback, America old west

MacLeod looked up from his corner of the nearly empty saloon as the  
latest arrival was heralded by the distinctive buzz of Immortality.  
The man that entered was unfamiliar to him, and seemed supremely  
indifferent to any possible threat. He was tall and muscular,  
heavily built even for an Immortal, and his clothes looked like they  
were expensive under the trail dust. He shook the dust off his hat  
as he let his eyes get accustomed to the light, probably taking the  
time to check for the Immortal he felt, but he didn't acknowledge  
MacLeod in any way. He just swaggered over to the bar and tossed  
some money on it, the barkeep getting him a bottle of whisky and a  
glass without being asked. He wore two guns arranged for a quick  
draw, and a cavalry sabre.

"Any work come in for me?" the new arrival asked.

"One or two you might be interested in. Not much for the price you  
set," the barkeep replied, pulling out some scraps of paper from a  
tin under the bar.

"You get what you pay for, and folk are going to know if they pay  
for me they get the best," the man said confidently, gulping down  
his whisky. "Someday Jack Konoval is going to be more famous than  
Billy the Kid or Wyatt Earp." He put the glass down and poured  
himself another, missing the sceptical look on the barkeep's face.  
"Meantime, I'm going to get stinking rich," he grinned and toasted  
the thought.

"I'll drink to that," the barkeep agreed. "So, most expensive  
first? He won't be easy."

"They never are. That's half the fun," Konoval grinned evilly.

The barkeep sorted through the papers and rolled one out in front of  
him. It was a sketch, with a rather impressive number underneath.

Konoval took the paper and turned it over, reading the notes on the  
back. "A face, a location, and a reward paid in gold. It don't get  
much sweeter than this."

"Or much more dangerous. They say he's faster than an angry  
rattlesnake."

"I've heard that before. Trust me, if it comes to shooting, I'll be  
the one to walk away." Konoval rolled up the paper and put his hat  
back on. "Well, time's wasting."

"You watch your back, Jack. The man you'll be working for has a  
worse rep than the one you're after."

"Maybe, but he made a deal with me and he's going to stick to it. A  
deal's a deal. If a man can't keep his word, what has he got?"  
Konoval paused a moment to give a favourite line its deserved space  
then concluded with a feral grin "Me right behind him is what."

He turned and stalked out as the barkeep scooped up his money, shook  
his head and went back to his regular work, such as it was.

MacLeod shrugged and paid the incident no more thought. Just  
another bounty hunter. He didn't expect to bump into him again.

A couple of days later he was proved wrong.

He was out at the Lowry ranch, not his favourite place but he had to  
get some food and water before heading off again, when Konoval  
turned up at the gate with a bound man slung across his saddle. Old  
man Lowry was called to see to it.

Konoval stood there, watching all Lowry's men whilst trying to  
appear to be paying them no attention. Lowry came over and yanked  
the bound man's head up so he could see who it was.

"One thief and murderer, as ordered," Konoval said, waving at the  
prisoner. "It said dead or alive." He grabbed the man's belt and  
pulled him out of the saddle, letting him hit the ground hard and  
grinning at the muffled grunt of pain.

Lowry stared at the man on the floor for a moment, then turned to  
face Konoval and shrugged. "I would have preferred dead."

Konoval just got out a gun and shot the man. MacLeod was more than  
half inclined to object, but there was nothing could be done for the  
poor bastard now, and far too many men around to fight. That was  
the closest to justice a man got around here anyway.

"Now, payment was to be in gold," Konoval said as he put his gun  
away, all business.

Lowry waved towards his house. "Come on in, I'll have the money  
ready by morning."

Konoval followed him up to the house, but Mac just shook his head,  
finished packing and left. Sometimes he really didn't think much of  
the so-called civilised people in this country.

He didn't go far before he made camp that night, and the next day he  
travelled at a relaxed pace too, so by the morning after that he was  
still close enough to Lowry's for the search parties to find him  
when they set out.

Three men caught up to him riding hard, stopping more than easy  
shooting distance away to yell over to him.

"Did you see Old Man Lowry or Konoval headed this way?"

"No, I've seen no one," MacLeod responded truthfully.

"Lowry's missing, some of the boys said they saw Konoval around  
before he went. You sure you ain't seen them?"

"I'm sure, but I'll gladly help search."

"That would be good. We haven't halfway enough boys to look  
everywhere, and we can't even split up if Konoval's out there  
waiting for us," they replied as Mac rode over to join them.

"Man, I told him, I told Lowry he shouldn't never think of crossing  
Konoval. That man's got more lives than a house full of cats. We  
should of just paid him."

"I still say it can't be him. That man was..." quick look to the  
new guy in the group "... long gone before last night."

Dead, MacLeod translated. They'd tried to not pay him, and the  
other Immortal had decided to pay them back in kind. Not a good  
business for anyone. Still, he helped search.

And he was with the party that found Lowry's body, or what was left  
of it. Nature's recycling system had taken care of most of it, and  
now all that was left were bones, and blood. A lot of blood. Blood  
that had been pumping when it left him. However Konoval had killed  
him, he'd taken his time over it.

MacLeod turned away from the scene in disgust, his hand going to his  
sword hilt as he thought of what kind of man would do something like  
that. Then a flash of light from the rocks above them caught his  
eye.

He looked up and there it was again, a good distance away but with a  
clear line of sight. Konoval. Looking over his work. Mac's face  
set angry and he spurred his horse up the trail towards Konoval's  
hiding place, the others in the party barely noticing him leave.

Konoval was standing calmly waiting for him, his arrogant grin  
firmly in place.

"Looking for me? Well, you've found me. If we're going to have a  
disagreement we might as well get it over with up here," Konoval  
said confidently.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," Duncan said, drawing his  
sword.

"Jack Konoval. Whenever you're ready," Konoval replied. He stood  
still and loose as Mac stepped slowly towards him, then suddenly he  
was a blur of motion as he struck out. MacLeod barely side-stepped  
the blow, and sent one of his own at Konoval's back with about equal  
success. Then the battle was joined in earnest.

The two opponents circled each other, both using a sweeping style of  
cuts and slices, trying to do serious damage with the razor sharp  
long edge of their swords. Both parried by turning the blows aside  
and tried to sweep under the other's guard as they did so. It was a  
very even match, and Duncan still wasn't sure how it was going to  
turn out when the others from the search party turned up, having  
finally noticed he was missing and guessed where he was going.

When Konoval saw them coming up the trail he disengaged and dashed  
for his horse. Duncan took a few steps after him, but he was  
mounted and galloping before the search party reached the top of the  
rocks. Duncan just put his sword away quickly, hoping no one  
noticed and asked any awkward questions, but they were all out for  
blood. The only question ever asked about the incident was why he  
hadn't joined in the chase. He answered, truthfully, that however  
rich he thought he was Konoval just wasn't worth very much. He'd  
never tried to finish that fight.

=====&gt;  
Present day, Joe's bar again...

It was a decision he was regretting now.

Before he'd really thought about it he halted Konoval's progress to  
the bar with a katana at his neck.

"MacLeod!" Joe hissed. Right now they were alone in there, but  
that could change any time.

"No, Joe, if this guy knows where Adam is we're going to find out.  
One way or another," Richie said, moving up to cut off any possible  
retreat.

"Easy or hard, huh kid?" Konoval said lazily, acting quite  
unconcerned about the razor sharp metal currently just biting into  
his vulnerable area. "Well, let's make it easy." He reached  
casually inside his coat and drew out two weapons as he continued  
talking. "Yeah, I know where he is. And I'm willing to make a  
deal," he said, tossing Methos' sword and dagger onto the floor at  
Duncan's feet. Duncan and Richie just stared at them a moment with  
a rather sick feeling.

"No deal. Just tell us," MacLeod said harshly.

Konoval just smiled. "MacLeod, I'm not that stupid. I don't get  
back in time, Pierson dies, for good. So, I know you are going to  
let me walk out of here whenever I want, and you can put that bit of  
metal away. You're just making us both look silly."

Mac didn't move. Konoval looked him in the eye and grinned, his  
absolute self confidence going way over the border into arrogance,  
but making it more than likely he was telling the truth. Mac slowly  
and reluctantly lowered his sword, hiding it in his coat again, just  
about.

Konoval twitched his shoulders to settle his expensive tailored suit  
onto his shoulders better, then finished walking over to the bar.  
He flicked his coat back as he sat down so his sword hilt was  
visible at his side, looking like it was made of gold. From what  
Mac had heard about this guy, it probably was.

"Whisky," he dismissively ordered Joe, who was still standing  
behind the bar. Joe reluctantly went to fill his order, since he  
realised getting in the middle of this could be rather more  
difficult to get over than his flu.

"Well?" Mac demanded, standing near enough to Konoval to make his  
menace quite clear.

Konoval waited for his drink to arrive, then sipped it  
appreciatively as Joe disappeared again.

"It's simple," he said finally. "Straight swap." He looked right  
at the Highlander's eyes. "Your head for his. Tonight, no  
negotiation, no deals but this one. You let me take your head, he  
walks. Otherwise I doubt you'll be seeing him again this side of  
hell."

Mac's fingers went white around his sword hilt. "What makes you  
think I would take that deal?"

Konoval shrugged and gulped the rest of his drink before standing up  
and heading for the door. "Your choice. Makes no difference to  
me."

Richie blocked his way.

Konoval just looked at him with total disinterest. "You mind  
getting out of my way kid?"

Rich was furious, but he bit it back enough to ask a coherent  
question. "When and where?"

Konoval laughed. "You going to make him come, kid? Cause I've got  
to tell you, you just aren't worth enough to me. It's the  
Highlander or nothing."

Rich spaced the words out for added emphasis. "When... and...  
where."

Konoval shrugged. "Midnight, warehouse out near the docks." He  
pulled a small business card with the address scrawled on it out of  
his pocket and waved it under Rich's nose. "Don't go thinking to  
try anything smart, kid. I'll be one step ahead of you."

Mac reached out and grabbed the card out of his hand. "I'll be  
there," he said.

Konoval raised an eyebrow, then just turned and walked out, pushing  
past Richie like he was a swing door. "I'll look forward to it,  
Highlander," he called back, then left, his buzz fading out before  
a car started up and pulled away outside.

Richie looked at Mac and reached for the card he held. Mac pulled  
it out of his reach and shoved it in his pocket.

"Mac... I * am * going to challenge this guy. If not tonight then  
as soon as I catch up to him. Give me the address."

"No Richie. It's me he's after, it's my fight. Don't worry, I'll  
make sure Adam's all right."

"Oh, sure you will, right before Konoval whacks you. Give me the  
address, Mac. This is * my * fight."

"Richie..."

"What's going on, guys? What happened?" Joe asked, returning to  
the room.

Both Richie and Mac turned to look at him then went silent.

Mac shook his head. "I'm sorry Joe. There's been a challenge  
issued, we have to take care of it from here." Mac hesitated a  
moment, picked up Methos' weapons, then turned and walked out of the  
bar.

"Richie..?"

Rich just picked up his reassuringly heavy black leather coat and  
followed Mac. "We'll see you later," he called back on he way out.  
Mac and he weren't agreeing on much right then, but neither of them  
wanted the mortal involved in this. They had too few friends to  
risk losing another.

"Hey Richie, MacLeod, wait a..." Joe yelled after them, then had to  
stop when he started coughing again, nasty chesty coughs. It took  
him a few minutes to get his breath back, and by then the two  
Immortals were long gone. "Damn." he muttered, then headed for the  
phone. Epidemic or no, there had to be * someone * who could cover  
MacLeod, and he was going to make damn sure they were there tonight.  
He didn't want to have to hear about his friends dying from the  
morning papers.

-end part 3-

Pay Time 4/8

 

By the time Richie got out of the bar, Mac was in his T-Bird and  
pulling away. Rich climbed on his bike and following, never falling  
far enough behind to lose the sense of him, but Mac was only headed  
to the dojo anyway. By the time he got there he was mad enough to  
slam the car door and try and ignore Richie as they went in.

By the time they were in the same room again they were both in the  
loft and the coat with the address in the pocket was gone.

"Mac..."

"Richie, this is my fight. He challenged me. You heard what he  
said, we've got unfinished business. The last time we fought we got  
interrupted, this time there won't be any distractions. I want his  
head and I'm going to have it." Mac said angrily, trying to sound  
as bloodthirsty as possible.

Richie wasn't buying it. "No way Mac. This isn't about you and  
him, it's about Methos, * me * and Methos. Konoval has him, he's  
maybe even killed him. You said, if Methos dies, I get to avenge  
him. You promised."

Mac didn't bother to point out that promise had never been spoken.  
It was a valid point and they both knew it. He corrected Rich on  
something else instead. "Methos isn't dead. Konoval's keeping him  
alive. We have a deal, and until I break it he won't."

"Oh yeah, right. This guy's honourable or something? Give me a  
break, Mac, he's playing with us. There's no guarantee he won't  
just take your head and then have Methos for desert."

Mac disagreed. "Richie, I've known or known of Konoval for a long  
time. He's got a reputation, mostly a bad one, but he always sticks  
to a deal. It's the only way people can trust him enough to pay him  
and not worry he'll stab them in the back while they deliver the  
gold. And he loves his gold."

"Fine, so we distract him with jewellery while I take his head. Not  
relevant, Mac. Tell me where he is, I'm going there."

"Richie, I can't let you risk it. Konoval's good. And we both know  
I'm still better with a sword than you. I'll take the challenge.  
He challenged me and I will fight him."

"Mac, he didn't challenge you, he said your head for Methos'. You  
go in there expecting a fight and he will probably just take Methos'  
head to get him out the way. He doesn't want to fight you Mac, he  
just wants you dead. Could you just stand there while Konoval takes  
your head if it meant saving Methos? Are you willing to die for him  
Mac? I don't think you are. I am. Like I died for you," Rich  
hissed, pulling out all the stops to try and make MacLeod see sense.

"No one's dying for anyone tonight, Richie. I can't let you fight  
Konoval. I can't let you risk that again," Mac replied

"You can't shelter me forever either, Mac. I've taken challenges,  
I've taken heads, more than you know about. And you know I'm good.  
Good enough for this."

"Maybe, but I'm still better. I..."

"Mac, you don't get it. I don't care if you're better,  
* Konoval * ... * hurt * ... * Methos *. I -cannot- just let him  
walk away after that."

"Look, Rich, I know what you and Methos have done is important to  
you..."

"* Important * ... Mac, what Methos and I have is more important  
than you can possibly..." Rich gulped as the emotion became too  
strong for words, then turned away for a moment and put his hands  
through his hair trying to pull his thoughts together.

"Look, Mac..." Rich said, turning back to face him, his tone half  
command and half plea. "...if it were Tessa, if she had been taken  
and someone challenged me about it, even if I were the better  
swordsman, would you let me have that fight?"

Mac didn't answer that directly, faced with either the answer Richie  
wanted or a flat out lie. Rich watched him understand and nodded.

"I've * got * to do this, Mac. Can't you see that?"

Mac looked at the floor, unable to face that intense gaze. Rich  
nodded and sighed and wandered over to the window to think.

"You and him, you think it's like I had with Tessa?" Mac asked  
quietly.

"Maybe," Rich sighed, turning to face him again and struggling to  
find the right words. "I mean, he's not Tessa, but..."

"You love him," Mac stated simply, for once no judgement in the  
statement.

"Yeah," Rich agreed sort of sadly, his blue eyes pleading for  
understanding.

For once Mac simply couldn't ignore it. With everything that had  
happened, he understood. He couldn't pretend otherwise.

"Mac, please. I've got to do this," Rich said simply.

And he was right. It was just a statement of fact. This was  
Richie's fight.

"Konoval's expecting me. If I don't show up..."

"So, he's expecting you, he gets you."

"And if he wants me to give up my head?"

Richie looked him directly in the eye, and with quiet resolve he  
said "Then you lay down your sword, and you give it to him."

MacLeod nodded.

****************************************************************

Methos woke, every muscle complaining at the lack of oxygen his  
temporary death had caused, but he stifled the instinctive first  
gasp for air as he tried to ascertain more about his situation.

He was tied up, rather tightly. Taking a deep breath would be  
difficult anyway. He couldn't sense another Immortal, which made  
sense since his head was still attached. On the other hand it was  
somewhat alarming since the only mortal enemies that came to mind  
from this lifetime were Hunters and perhaps Watchers, if they had  
discovered his Immortality.

He seemed to be under a bright light, but before he risked opening  
his eyes he listened carefully, gathering as much information as he  
could. Wherever he was it sounded large, air movements creating  
echoes, and it was cold. The damp, chilly weather had left  
condensation all over whatever it was he was tied to, and a certain  
stickiness suggested not all the damp was water. He realised his  
throat was dry and he was extremely thirsty. Dehydration, probably  
from blood loss. Great. He had definitely been dead then.

He also realised his thoughts were still a bit fuzzy. That worried  
him more than anything, as his mind was his one advantage right now.

He had not heard any sounds of movement, so he risked half opening  
his eyes and taking a quick look at his surroundings. He was under  
a powerful light, one of very few in the large dark warehouse that  
seemed to be working. Right in front of him, only a few inches from  
his face, was a camera on a tripod with a speaker beside it and a  
long cable leading off into the darkness. The moment his eyes  
flickered open, the speaker clicked on and someone spoke to him.

"So, you're awake already. Inconvenient. I'll have to gut you  
again before we're ready to ship you."

Whoever was speaking didn't sound like he was too displeased at the  
prospect. As it would have been a simple matter just to leave a  
knife stuck in him, Methos concluded this man was one sick bastard.  
A type he had long experience with.

A door clanked open from one end of the long room, out in the  
darkness his light adjusted eyes couldn't see into. As footsteps  
approached he felt the cacophony of sensations that signified the  
presence of another Immortal. His captor was Immortal? Then why  
was he still alive? Not that he was complaining, but there were  
some very uncomfortable possibilities.

The other man stepped into the light in front of him. He was tall,  
blonde, not bad looking in a way, but with a very ugly expression on  
his face. He looked almost hungry, staring at the prisoner bound  
helpless to the pillar before him.

Methos saw the man was holding a long hunting knife, but his sabre  
was still sheathed at his side. He looked around quickly for his  
own sword, not that it was much use to him in his present  
predicament. His captor missed none of this.

"Don't bother, your weapons aren't anywhere you could get to them.  
I like to eliminate all the random factors I can. I'm not a  
gambling man, I make my money on sure things. Like a trussed up  
academic who apparently has something in his head that's worth a  
million dollars." He ran the flat of the blade down the side of  
Methos' face. "Now that makes me wonder, are you worth more to him  
or to me? What is it he wants to know?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Methos croaked, trying  
without success to get some moisture in his mouth. "You must have  
made a mistake, I'm..."

"Adam Pierson, grad student, likes beer, used to live in poky little  
garrets in Paris then started jetting around the world. Some place  
in the far east, and Seacouver."

Methos kept his expression carefully controlled, a bit resentful, a  
little frightened, but he hid the relief he felt that this man only  
knew this latest identity.

He continued, "Home of Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander, who also  
lived in Paris for a while. You know him? I think you do. What is  
he to you?" the man asked, watching Methos' eyes. He moved the  
knife down to lightly touch his neck, then asked "More importantly,  
what are you to him?"

"You mean am I worth more than a million dollars? Ask him, you  
might be surprised." Methos encouraged this line of thought, since  
even if Mac didn't have quite that much money it bought him time.

The other man chuckled nastily. "Actually, I mean are you worth him  
losing his head over." He paused a moment to let that one sink in,  
still watching his prey's eyes. Then he continued. "Personally, I  
doubt it. But letting him go again would just be wasteful. Waste  
not, want not. And I want his head. So, I made the offer. Either  
you'll wake up with him dead, or you'll wake up in England ready to  
tell your new owner whatever it is you know. Something to think  
about." He grinned widely and moved the knife down to Methos'  
chest, then lingered a moment to savour the effect of his words.

England. Arthur. Damn. That meant the information that was so  
important was how to rule the world, and although this was obviously  
the time the bounty hunter expected his prey to start bargaining for  
his life, Methos couldn't immediately think of anything that would  
buy him out of this situation. He played for time, hoping this man  
liked to boast as much as his type usually did.

"When I wake up, I'll find the Highlander untying me. I'm not  
worried about MacLeod. I don't know who you are, but if you were  
anyone who could be any challenge to him I'm sure I would have heard  
of you."

"The name is Konoval, and who said anything about challenge? His  
head or your life. Win-win situation. The best kind. You going to  
offer me anything better?" Konoval said, digging in with the tip of  
the knife. Methos flinched away, and tried to think exactly what to  
offer him, but before his still fuzzy brain came up with anything,  
Konoval finished "Didn't think so." And shoved the knife into his  
chest with a vicious twist. The last thing Methos saw before he  
died was the gloating smirk on Konoval's face.

-end part 4-

Pay Time 5/8

 

Mac checked his watch carefully. Time. He walked in to the  
warehouse, sword held ready, his pace determined but unhurried. As  
he neared the room he had been directed to he felt the presence of  
another Immortal, but not the particular combination of sensations  
that he had associated with Methos ever since the double Quickening  
had joined them. A cold knot formed in his stomach, but he kept  
going at the same pace.

As he reached the door Konoval called out to him "Highlander, so  
good of you to join us. Please, come in. I'm sure you're just  
dying to see your friend again."

Mac took a deep breath and stepped through into the large, dimly lit  
room.

Konoval was standing in front of a pillar in the middle of the  
warehouse, one of the few bulbs that worked illuminating both him  
and the limp form he held in front of him like a shield. Methos.  
For the moment he was dead, but his head was still attached. Duncan  
let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"As you can see, I haven't done anything permanent. Yet. But I  
have no intention of fighting you. Put down your sword, or your  
friend dies now," Konoval told him, holding his sabre to the  
ancient's throat. He held the body tilted away from him so as not  
to get any blood on his expensive suit.

"You swear, you'll let him go," Mac asked, holding his sword out  
away from himself.

"That's the deal. And you can say what you like about me, but I  
never back out on a deal. He's only worth money, you get me that  
much closer to the prize. What's one academic compared to that?"  
Konoval shrugged. "So, are you going to fill your end of the  
bargain?"

Mac nodded slowly, looked at his sword, then tossed it a little more  
than half way towards Konoval.

The bounty hunter laughed. "You know I never thought you would  
actually do it? Honour and friendship. There's no percentage in  
it. You lose everything, and for what? He isn't worth it," he  
sneered, then unceremoniously shoved Methos' body aside and ignored  
him completely as he strolled forwards, concentrating on the  
Highlander and the Quickening he was about to get. Methos however  
was not going to be much help. The nasty chest wound had begun  
healing, but he would be out of action for quite some time yet.

Mac stood quite still as Konoval walked towards him, swinging his  
sabre through the air as if to feel the weight of it but really  
watching MacLeod's eyes as three feet of gleaming death whisked past  
his face. Mac kept his expression stony.

Konoval stopped, standing between MacLeod and his sword, and pointed  
at Mac with his sabre. "On your knees," He commanded softly, a  
vicious smirk on his face.

Mac's expression flickered as his first impulse was to object, but  
he glanced over at Methos' still body and for once swallowed his  
pride. He knelt down.

Konoval chuckled and shook his head. "Makes me glad I don't have  
friends. Who'd want them, when this is all it gets you?" he asked,  
and raised his sword to strike.

"Oh, I don't know, there are some advantages," A voice called from  
the shadows beside them. Konoval swung round instinctively to look  
for the new threat, and in the moment he was distracted MacLeod  
rolled past him, grabbed his katana, and came up between Konoval and  
Methos, sword ready.

Konoval looked back at Mac, started to bring his sword around, but  
then Richie stepped out into the light and he realised he was no  
longer the predator in that room. He was the prey.

Richie smiled slowly, with far more teeth than warmth, and raised  
his sword. "You have two options, Konoval. You face the  
Highlander, or you face me. Take my advice. Choose him."

Konoval backed up until he could see both of them at once, totally  
surprised. The way the two had approached simultaneously he hadn't  
been able to tell the buzz came from two Immortals, and the second  
man's black clothes had hidden him in the shadows up to this point.  
Konoval asked "And who might you be?"

"Richie Ryan."

Konoval looked over at the Highlander, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan  
MacLeod, then back at Richie. He made his choice. "Jack Konoval.  
You and I need to take this elsewhere, I think."

"Fine by me. Not too far, I want to get this over with."

"Not a problem." Konoval replied, getting his bravado back, and  
gestured to the side door Richie must have broken open to get in.  
"Shall we?"

Rich turned to give Konoval just enough space to walk past without  
being in sword reach. "Yeah, I think we shall." he waved for  
Konoval to go first.

"Rich..." Mac started to say.

"Get him some place safe," Richie ordered, cutting him off. "I'll  
take care of Konoval." He stared at MacLeod, his determination  
quite evident. Reluctantly, Mac nodded. Richie turned back to  
Konoval, and gestured for him to lead on.

"Really, people are just lining up to lose their heads over this  
guy. Must be really great in bed," Konoval sniped as he walked  
off.

Richie's sword arm twitched but he managed to keep himself in check  
as he followed Konoval off into the darkness.

That left MacLeod standing in an empty warehouse with Methos' body  
at his feet, the two Immortal buzzes of Richie and Konoval fading  
out as they walked off. Mac sheathed his katana and gently picked  
up the ancient Immortal, then carried him back to the car. With  
foresight born of experience he had covered the passenger seat in  
plastic, so when he strapped in Methos' body it didn't do any  
permanent damage to the upholstery. Details like that would be  
funny if they weren't so damn tragic.

He realised he was concentrating on daft little things to try and  
keep his mind off the fight that even now could be going on.  
Wherever they had gone he could neither sense nor hear them. He  
could go looking for them, but he couldn't interfere even if he  
found them, and the sense of him approaching could be a distraction  
at a crucial moment... better to stay away. Every instinct he had  
said otherwise, but reason had to rule.

He got in the car. To stay or to go. Well, Rich had said to get  
Methos to safety. They still didn't know how Konoval had captured  
the ancient, or if he was using any mortals. Watchers thought not,  
but Watchers were stretched thin with this bloody flu epidemic and  
the few that were still on their feet had three known Immortals to  
keep track of, and they had not been entirely successful. Better to  
get the old man to somewhere he knew would be safe. MacLeod started  
the car and pulled off headed for the dojo. Richie would know to  
look for them there.

If he survived.

********************************************************************

Methos awoke this time lying on something soft, in a warm room, with  
no uncomfortable stickiness. He could sense another Immortal, but  
the presence had a familiar feel to it he had come to associate with  
MacLeod. Methos smiled and opened his eyes, breathing as deeply as  
his body wanted this time. He was clean and dry in some spare  
clothes of MacLeod's. &gt;&gt;Interesting&gt;&gt; , imagining the proud  
Scotsman cleaning him before he woke.

"Welcome back," Mac said, and handed him a tall glass of orange  
juice. Not his usual drink, but in his present dehydrated state any  
amount of alcohol would make him very drunk indeed. Methos took the  
glass and drank thirstily. When he had finished, Mac took the empty  
glass, and handed him another. Methos smiled his gratitude, and  
drank that quickly too. Then MacLeod took both glasses back over to  
the refrigerator, still without having said anything else. Methos  
sensed not all was well.

"So, what happened?" he queried. Mac didn't answer straight away.  
Methos got up and walked over towards him, but Mac wouldn't look at  
him. Methos' fears crystallised around a conspicuous absence.  
"Where's Richie."

Mac put the drinks down and answered without turning round. "I let  
him challenge Konoval."

Methos' expression hardened. "You did * what *?"

Mac turned around to face him. "It was his right. For a while  
after we found you were missing we didn't even know if you were  
still alive. Richie went nuts. He made me promise if we found who  
had taken you, he would be the one to challenge them. I understand  
how important you are to him, it was his right to avenge you."

"And here was I thinking he was important to you too. Where is he  
MacLeod? What's happened to him?"

Mac looked at the floor and barely whispered "I don't know." He  
swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, then forced himself to  
continue. "He and Konoval went off someplace to fight. He told me  
to take you somewhere safe. We didn't know who else might be around  
there so I brought you back here. That was half an hour ago."

"You just left him there to fight?"

"We fight alone, what good could I do by staying?"

"MacLeod, Konoval shot me in the back from far enough away I  
couldn't feel him coming. Whatever he has in mind for Richie I  
doubt a fair fight ever comes into it. He is a sick bastard who  
gets off on other people's pain, and you left Richie to face him  
alone?"

"I had to!" Mac hissed back at him, "It's what we do, remember?  
It's the rules. There can be only one." He walked past Methos and  
slammed a fresh juice on the table beside him, then walked over to  
stare out the windows.

Methos glared at his back for a moment, then picked up the glass and  
went over to stand next to him. The view was patchy, mostly of the  
building across the street and a couple of parked cars, but Mac  
wasn't really seeing it anyway.

Methos sipped at his drink while trying to think of what to say  
next. The hell of it was MacLeod was mostly right. It was just the  
thought of losing Richie... again... But Rich had been practising,  
and he was a naturally talented swordsman. Methos looked at the  
Highlander's tortured expression as he gazed out over the city and  
sighed.

"He'll be alright, MacLeod," Methos said, reassuring himself as  
much as Mac. "You taught him well."

"Ha. And that will help against a gun," Mac replied.

"Rich isn't stupid, he..." a distant light lit up the sky over in  
the area where they had retrieved Methos. The ancient one went  
quiet as light flickered and reflected off the clouds, dread filling  
him. He was too distant to feel anything, but there was no doubt in  
his mind that light came from a Quickening.

Mac could feel it. Ever since he had held Richie's Quickening there  
had been a bond between them, growing stronger with time. He had  
come to recognise the distinct Presence of the young Immortal, and  
whenever Rich took a head Mac felt a peculiar, personal echo, like  
some part of him was feeling it too. Like right now.

Relief flooded him as the small sensation built up in a way that was  
familiar from previous battles, growing louder in his mind, and he  
was sure Richie had won and this was the echo of Konoval's  
Quickening.

Then outside the light flashed brightly and the feeling stopped.

Not faded out like other times, not dropped away until it faded into  
the hum of ones own life, just... died. "Oh god..."

Methos had seen the expressions chasing across MacLeod's face,  
relief wiped away by gut wrenching fear and loss... "Mac, we don't  
know who..."

"I * felt * it Methos. Oh God, I * felt * it," Mac said, slumping  
against the wall like his knees wouldn't take his weight any more.

"What did you feel? The Quickening? From here?" Methos asked  
incredulously.

"Yes, from here. From anywhere. Ever since..." &gt;&gt;I killed him...&gt;&gt;  
"...the demon, when Rich takes a head..."

"So he won, he's alive?" Methos asked, allowing himself to hope.

Mac shook his head. "No, you don't understand. It wasn't like the  
other times. Methos, I think I felt him die."

&gt;&gt;No. No, not again.&gt;&gt; He couldn't take this again. How could he  
live through losing him... "You're sure?" he whispered, not quite  
able to breathe, the news hitting him like a physical blow.

Mac didn't reply, just closed his eyes on the tears forming there.

"You don't know for sure, do you? It's always different, MacLeod,  
it could just be that. And this link you say you feel, I've never  
heard of anything like it before."

"You don't feel it with us?"

"Well... perhaps. Since Bordeaux. But only when you are near  
enough to sense anyway, never from so far away. You can't know for  
sure what the feeling meant. If it's like you feel when Richie  
takes a head, then that is probably what it is."

"Maybe," Mac said dubiously.

"MacLeod, I am not giving up on Rich until I know for sure."

Mac met his intense gaze for a moment, then nodded. "You're right.  
We can't give up on him yet. If he's not... he'll be headed here,  
soon. We just have to wait," Mac finished, managing to sound  
almost positive by the end of the speech. Then a bike engine could  
be heard in the street below and they both strained to see. But of  
course, it wasn't Richie yet, and they both looked a little  
embarrassed at the other seeing how anxious they were.

"We just have to wait a few minutes. He'll be back soon," Mac  
reassured them both.

So they waited.

And minutes passed.

Methos finished the juice, and the coffee he made for them both,  
whilst Mac just stood at the window, staring sightlessly, jumping at  
every engine noise, and ignoring the coffee in his hands until it  
went cold.

And minutes turned to hours.

Methos sat perched on the edge of a chair, flicking through  
magazines, refusing to think too long about anything, his angular  
pose a sharp contrast to his usual sprawl. Mac still hadn't moved.

Shadows moved and the quality of the light changed as one lonely  
bird twittered his call to the sun.

Methos glared at Mac's still form and got up, pacing for the both of  
them, unable to keep his mind off the sickening suspicion....

Finally, the dawn came. Brilliant sunshine peeked under the roof of  
clouds and lit up the view. On any other morning it would have been  
beautiful.

Mac turned from the window, still not really seeing. He wandered  
across to the kitchen and plunked the coffee down, then wandered  
back to the middle of the room, stopping next to Methos as he stood  
watching him.

He voiced the thought the pair of them had been trying to avoid  
through all the long night.

"He's not coming back, is he?"

Methos just stood there, looking at the floor.

"Is he?" Mac asked again, looking up at him.

Methos couldn't meet his gaze.

Mac slumped down onto the bed behind them, his knees giving way as  
it finally, undeniably hit him. He was sure now.

Richie was dead.

A sob rose up from the very depths of his being and the tears he had  
held back all night poured down his face in torrents. This dawn  
brought no relief from nightmare, only confirmation of it. Mac  
covered his face with his hands and lost himself in the pain.

After a moment he felt arms around him, and he realised Methos was  
holding him. He also realised the ancient one must be in even more  
pain than he right then. Mac turned in Methos arms and wrapped the  
ancient Immortal in a bear hug, holding onto him tightly as if  
afraid he would slip away. Methos pulled away for a moment, then  
just buried his face in the Highlander's hair and cried.

-end part 5-

Pay Time 6/8

 

Even exhausted as they were the two Immortals couldn't stay asleep  
for long. There was too much to do. They awoke in the early  
afternoon, the light gone grey again as the clouds covered  
everything. They didn't say much to each other to start with, just  
untangled themselves from where they had cried themselves to sleep  
together, got up and went over to start breakfast. The  
uncomfortable silence stretched until they were both sitting down  
with food, Mac with orange juice and cereal, Methos with beer and  
toast. Neither of them thought Methos' choice of drink so early  
particularly strange given the circumstances of this day.

"MacLeod, you'll have to take me back to where he was keeping me. I  
don't know where it was, and we need to look for Richie's body,"  
Methos said, not looking at him, his tone quite flat.

Mac looked over at him shocked. "How can you just be so calm  
about...?"

"Calm, Highlander?" Methos said harshly, looking up at him. Mac  
flinched back at the depths of pain in those red rimmed eyes. "I  
loved that man more than life. But this time we don't get to bring  
him back. So, there are certain things we have to do."

Mac looked down and nodded, not really eating his food. "Methos...  
when I asked you to take my head that time, why didn't you?" he  
asked quietly.

Methos face softened and he reached over to take Mac's hand.

"I mean, you saw I'd just killed him, your lover. If I'd found you  
over Tessa's body..." Mac continued. His tone of voice was  
difficult to describe, like perhaps he missed the chance for peace  
back then.

"Mac... I can't say I didn't want to. We didn't know then that it  
was his choice, let alone that we could bring him back. Losing him  
was terrible. Is terrible. But Duncan, I didn't want to lose you  
too."

"I'm too important to lose," Mac said, with a trace of bitterness.

"Yes," Methos replied, squeezing his hand gently. "Friends always  
are."

They just looked at each other for a long moment, for once both  
understanding what the other meant. It was an intense moment, and  
Mac was secretly rather glad when the phone broke in. Still, he let  
it ring for a minute, before Methos let go of his hand and stood up  
to head for the bathroom. "You better get that," he said as he  
went.

Mac sighed then stared at the phone, wondering exactly who saw fit  
to try and continue with normal everyday life after the events of  
last night. With his luck it was probably someone phoning to  
complain about him not opening the dojo that day. He went over and  
picked it up.

"MacLeod," Mac said shortly into the phone.

"Mac, I got to talk to Adam, could you put him on?" Joe said  
urgently.

"He's in the bathroom. What..?"

"We've got trouble Mac. I found a Watcher to cover you guys last  
night. Only problem was it turns out he's worked with Adam before.  
He recognised him, he's already sent a copy of the report straight  
to Paris since that was where Adam worked. The organisation is  
going to know as soon as anyone gets back to work in the morning.  
We've got to get some damage control going fast or the tribunal is  
going to come down on all of us so hard..."

"Joe, I don't think he wants to deal with that right now," Mac  
said, his voice sounding both irritated and on the edge of tears.

"Why, what happened?" Joe asked, all unknowing.

Mac felt like swearing at him. The Watchers followed him around,  
spied on him every day, had records of everything from his favourite  
clothes to what he liked to eat for breakfast, and now they knew  
about 'Adam Pierson' being Immortal. Yet they didn't know what had  
happened last night? Mac counted to ten and tried to find a way to  
say it.

"Mac... what happened?" Joe asked again, concerned now.

"Joe... Richie's... he fought Konoval and..." Mac gulped and nearly  
started crying again.

"But I thought you were challenged..." Joe said then stopped as he  
realised what that must sound like to the already guilt ridden Scot.  
&gt;&gt;Yeah, go ahead Joe, twist the knife why don't you.&gt;&gt; he swore at  
himself, then mentally turned his anger on the researcher who had  
missed something that important. &gt;&gt;Shit, I guess I know why they  
took you off field work now. Who fights who is just the core of the  
Chronicle, not like it was important or anything that none of us saw  
Richie... saw Rich...&gt;&gt; he closed his eyes a moment. Then he  
realised he had been quiet too long so he put aside his own grief  
for his young friend and tried to repair some of the damage he had  
done with Mac. "Mac... I'm so sorry. I just thought since you and  
Adam were okay... I'm sorry. God, Rich was my friend too, you know  
I would never just butt in like this... I guess you'll be hunting  
Konoval now?"

"Yeah, though he'll probably be hunting us too. If you can get us a  
location..."

"I'll put all my people on it, such as they are. Konoval's Watcher  
should be here later today, seems she followed a false trail to  
Portugal or something... anyway, as soon as she picks him up again,  
you'll be the first to know."

"Thanks," MacLeod said, more resolve in his voice now he could  
focus on this task.

Joe hesitated a moment, but what he had phoned about in the first  
place really was important. "Mac... about the Adam Pierson thing..."

Methos was stepping out of the bathroom right then so Mac motioned  
him over to the phone and told Joe "Yeah, he's right here Joe.  
Talk to him." then handed over the receiver.

Methos took it, his face as blank as Mac had ever seen it. No  
sarcasm or humour to mask his emotions, they were too much for that.  
All he could manage was to keep control.

"Hello?" Methos said, then paused as Joe explained what had  
happened. Mac watched for a minute as his shoulders sagged and for  
a moment Methos looked infinitely tired. Then Mac turned away and  
used the bathroom himself as Methos and Joe started a fairly cryptic  
conversation that obviously referred to plans they had sketched out  
before. When he came out Methos was dressed in borrowed clothes  
that nearly fit, including a long white coat that undoubtedly hid  
the weapons Mac had left next to the bed earlier.

"I'm going to Joe's. I should be back in an hour or so. Have to  
get some things sorted out with the guy who saw me. He was more or  
less a friend, I think he might listen."

"I'll come with you," Mac offered, getting dressed quickly.

"No need, MacLeod. He'll be anxious enough about being seen with  
one known Immortal, let alone one as famous as you."

"So I'll keep out of the way. Konoval's still out there, and he  
still wants you. I'll watch your back while you take care of this."

Methos looked for a moment like he wanted to object, but if he was  
honest with himself he was glad of the Highlander's support right  
now, so he just shrugged and waited until Mac got ready and drove  
them both there.

Once outside the bar Methos paused a moment and closed his eyes with  
his head bowed. Up until then he had kept the blank, hard mask that  
made him look very much his age. Now when he looked up again Methos  
the oldest Immortal was gone, and Adam Pierson, grad student,  
ex-watcher, and very scared young Immortal was there. The change  
was difficult to define but easy to see. Suddenly he looked young,  
lost, like he was acutely feeling everything he had been through in  
the past twenty-four hours. Mac felt the same urge to protect this  
man that he had the very first time he met him, an urge he realised  
had to a degree worn off as he saw more of the real Methos. They  
walked into the bar together, new Immortal and Teacher to all  
appearances. Then Adam glanced over at Mac and they separated, Mac  
heading for the bar and Adam for a table in the far corner where his  
Watcher friends waited.

Adam walked over to the table where Joe sat with a young man who was  
wavering between staring at Adam and trying to pretend he didn't  
exist. Adam hesitated next to the table a minute then turned a  
chair around and sat down with his arms across the back, looking  
tired.

"Hi Joe, Phil. Guess you finally noticed then," he said, almost  
joking but sounding worried.

"Oh, I noticed alright. You know what a shock it was to follow  
MacLeod and find that other guy holding a sword to your neck? And  
you looked dead. It didn't make much sense. So, I see him put you  
in the car, I follow you back to his place, and half an hour later  
you're up and about again! How do you explain that Adam?" Phillipe,  
the young researcher, asked, agitated.

Adam rubbed a hand over his eyes and answered while looking at the  
table. "Simple. I'm one of them, Phil. Sorry you had to find out  
this way but..." he shrugged and looked over at Joe, eyes pleading.  
"Joe, I'm sorry, I know I should have told you. If I was going to  
tell any Watcher it would have been you, we've been friends a long  
time. But with everything thats happened with us and Immortals,  
with the Hunters and the tribunal and everything... I just didn't  
want to put you at risk like that."

Joe paused for a minute as if considering, then sighed. "Yeah,  
well, I can't say I'm not hurt. Shocked even. You, an Immortal. I  
can't think of anyone less likely... I mean, no offence, but..."

"Yeah, I know, but we come in all shapes and sizes you know. I've  
just got to find a decent library on holy ground and I might live to  
be a hundred. And a pub of course," Adam grinned.

"So, you're still young?" Phil asked.

"Phil, I am precisely as old as you thought I was," Adam replied  
sincerely. Joe nearly choked on his beer at the enormity of the  
lie, but covered his reaction before the other Watcher caught it.

"So, how did it happen? When did you find out about the Watchers,  
and why did you join us if you're one of them? God, I shouldn't be  
talking to you. You realise you're on the other side of our oath  
now. The trouble I could get in to..."

"Don't worry, it's not like you're giving me information. I know  
about Watchers already, I am a Watcher. That's still how I think of  
myself sometimes, you know. I loved the work, the research,  
touching times that have been gone for centuries, reading about lives   
that connect the earliest times with the modern world, the sense   
of continuity through it all. You realise somewhere out there is   
an Immortal who has seen and understood pieces of history we only   
learned about in school? It's still amazing to me. And here I am,  
supposed to be one. Have you any idea how much of a shock *that* was?"

"So, what, you didn't know? I can't believe..."

"Phillipe, believe me, I had no idea," Adam replied sincerely.  
"One day I'm sitting at home quite happily working on the Methos  
chronicles, the closest I'd ever been to an Immortal reading about  
what they did three hundred eyars ago. The next Kalas is after  
Methos and thinks I'll lead him to him. Not that I could anyway,  
but he isn't about to listen to the problems of researching the  
legend, he just wants his head. So, I ran. He caught up to me on a  
bridge near my house, we fought, we ended up going over the railing.  
I blacked out for a bit, at least I thought I'd just blacked out.  
Woke up on a river bank, went home. The next time I saw Kalas was  
when I brought the police to arrest him. Only I didn't just see  
him, I sensed him. It was like... well, you can't really describe  
it. Somewhere between a song in your mind and a punch in the gut,"  
Adam shrugged, looking dispirited.

"The Buzz. I mean, we used to call it..."

"Yeah, the buzz. I knew what it was. I just couldn't believe it.  
But it had happened. I hadn't liked being hunted one bit, and now I  
was meant to be part of the Game? No way."

"So you ran. We all thought it was just Don, the way he died, but   
really..." Phillipe filled in, interpreting everything exactly as  
planned.

Adam nodded. "Yeah, I ran. It was about Don, but not just that. I  
needed to get to Holy Ground, and fast. Everything was a mess. I'd  
made an oath to never interfere, so now what was I supposed to do?  
Even if I refused to fight, that was making a difference in the Game.   
Maybe not much of one, but the principle was the same. And I'd read   
about Immortals, not just the good ones that lived for art or learning   
but the ones that lived for the killing. They were out there, hunting   
each other, some of them hunting mortals too. Could I just sit back   
and let things happen? If the Gathering really is here..."

"Is it? I mean, I know we used to joke about it, make bets... God,  
you must think us so callous, the way we talked about you all."

Adam shrugged and fiddled with the beer that was still sitting  
untouched waiting for him. Adam Pierson, not drinking? He was  
really nervous about this.

"I used to make those bets too. Hell, some Immortals do as well,  
with and about their friends. With all the killing, you've got to  
cope somehow. Is it time? No one is certain yet, but every year  
there's no more young ones they get more convinced. Ryan was the  
youngest left, you know." At that the facade slipped a moment and  
his pain flickered briefly across his face. Joe caught it but Phil  
wasn't that good with people. He was still stuck on the whole idea  
of him being friends with an Immortal. He didn't even catch the  
past tense.

"So you could even be the one..." Phillipe said with some awe.

Adam just laughed, only a little bitterly. "Phil, I'm just a kid to  
them. If they decide the Gathering is here for real, that's it,  
it's over. They'll hunt the young ones just to clear the field."  
Adam half raised his glass then pushed it away. "I decided I didn't  
want that to happen. I want to live. Only trouble then was what to  
do about it," he sighed. "I'd just got about that far when the  
whole thing with the disk blew up. I don't know if you were around  
then?"

"Yeah, I was there. That was intense. A couple of days of not  
knowing if the whole thing would go public, not knowing how people  
would react... I mean, I was freaked out when I found out about  
them..." He paused and corrected himself soberly "I mean about you  
guys." pause again while he stared at Adam, trying to find some  
visible difference. Adam looked away, tired, and Phil had the  
decency to look embarrassed at treating his friend like something at  
a freak show. "You know MacLeod was actually in Watcher headquarters?"

"Yeah, I know. That was what gave me the idea. Duncan MacLeod of  
the Clan MacLeod, Immortal boy scout. I could go to him and be  
pretty sure he would help me. And he already knew about the  
organisation, I wouldn't be breaking my oath if I let a few things  
slip... I mean, not so much. I know, it's kind of a fine line. I  
haven't been going around giving him names or anything, it's just if  
I refer to something I learned out of the chronicles he understands."

"So he's your teacher now?"

"Yeah, he was." Adam looked over to where Mac was hovering at the  
bar and half grinned. "I know one end of a sword from the other,  
nowadays. But he still worries. You know MacLeod."

"Yeah. I can't believe we missed this. Dawson, how did we miss  
this? MacLeod had a student and we never even noticed!"

Dawson shrugged and looked embarrassed. "I knew Adam was in town, I  
even knew he was talking to MacLeod, but I do that and I'm no Immortal."

"I was beginning to worry," Phil remarked. Joe grinned then  
realised he had only been half joking.

He looked taken aback, then continued with his explanation, looking   
thoughtful and a bit annoyed. "With MacLeod running that dojo he's always   
teaching someone. How do you tell regular classes from an Immortal   
student? None of us got that close. You know how much falls through   
the gaps. You missed Ryan's death last night. Stuff that spectacular   
slips through, no wonder one quiet student doesn't get noticed."

"And no one's noticed you. You've been taking heads and..."

"Only twice. One time MacLeod was there, it probably got written up as   
his. I don't know about the other. I'll fill Joe in later when he   
starts up a chronicle on me. It's going to be pretty strange knowing   
everyone back in Paris can read about my life if they think up a decent   
excuse. Life on the other side of the microscope," Adam shrugged.

Phil hesitated a moment, then blurted out "What's it like?"

"The Quickening? Or killing someone," Adam asked in return,  
holding Phil's gaze until he blushed and looked away.

"Never mind. I shouldn't have asked."

Adam half-heartedly grinned. "You think if I had Methos sitting at  
this table with me I wouldn't ask everything I could think of? I  
know I'm not anyone special, but still, there are some things you  
can only know if you ask. And there are others you've just got to  
experience I'm afraid. Killing someone is a terrible thing, and the  
other... well, that just is. No way to describe it." Adam stared  
at the table for a while, then sort of sheepishly looked over at his  
two Watcher friends.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but I'm still me. Some  
stuff has happened, but just being Immortal doesn't make me a  
head-hunting psychopath. I'd still rather sit around with a good  
book or listen to blues in good company. I'm just a guy."

Phil considered it a moment then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Adam.  
I'm not going to keep this secret for you, even if I could."

Adam blinked and looked surprised. "I wouldn't ask you to. I'm not  
much more than a footnote in the Chronicles right now, but I  
wouldn't want to be missed out entirely. I still believe in what we  
do. I was just hoping maybe we could still be friends?"

Phil looked sad, shook his head again and got up. "It's not like  
we've talked much since you left Paris anyway. No, Adam, I cannot  
be seen talking to Immortals. Maybe Joe gets away with it but I  
don't want to risk it. You won't be seeing me again. I'm going  
back to my books just as soon as this flu is over."

"You're going back to your books right now," Joe corrected. "You  
messed up last night. There's a closing report we've got to just  
guess at the details of and a body just lying around for the regular  
police to find. You know how much fuss that can cause. You are off  
active duty again, for good this time."

Phil winced slightly at being chewed out in front of others but  
nodded. "I'm sorry, sir, I know, but this is..."

"This could have waited. Go on, I'll talk to you later."

Adam looked at Joe and before Phil was out of earshot he asked "How  
about you and me, Joe? Are we still okay?"

Joe shrugged and replied a little loudly for the benefit of the  
retreating Watcher "What the hell, in for a penny and all that.  
Yeah, we're still okay. As long as you do like you said and fill me  
in on all the good stuff. Now the only problem is getting you a  
Watcher you don't know."

Then Phil had left the bar, and the three of them relaxed again.  
Mac wandered over to them while Methos dropped the persona again and  
drained the waiting beer.

"And you tried to tell me you weren't an actor," Mac said jokingly.

"Well I've never done Shakespeare but we all learn a few tricks for  
when we need them," Methos replied. "Joe, anything on Konoval?"

"Nothing yet. The office is still buzzing from this," Joe waved  
vaguely at Methos. "I'll go over there, get them settled down, see  
what we can come up with. I'll call you if we find Konoval. Or  
Richie." Joe looked down and finished what was left of the beer he  
was holding then got up to fetch himself something a little stronger  
before he left. "You two can hang around here if you want."

"It would probably look better if we left. Besides, if someone  
shows up after me I want a bit more of a chance to see them coming,"  
Methos said grimly, getting up again.

Joe nodded. "Call you at the dojo?"

"Yeah," Methos agreed, then turned and walked out to the car.

Mac went to follow him, and Joe called after him "Mac... I'm sorry  
about Richie. You know I..."

"Yeah, I know. But it's him that's been hurt the worst in all  
this," Mac replied, nodding after his old friend.

Joe sighed. "Yeah. Tell him... tell him when this is all over you  
can come here and we'll all get very drunk together. That's about  
the best I can do."

"I'll tell him. He'll appreciate it." Mac turned, then looked back  
and attempted to joke "You know he'll probably bankrupt the bar  
with all that free drink."

Joe grinned for form's sake but their hearts really weren't in it.  
It was too early to joke. Too early to really feel anything at all.  
For all of them it felt rather unreal. Not having seen the body,  
there was no finality to anything. Just an emptiness where Richie  
ought to be, like he'd stepped out for a minute unexpectedly.

Mac turned and walked back to the car, trying to get his mind away  
from that and on to the hunt ahead of them.

****************************************************************

It was nearly evening on that short winter day when they got back to  
the dojo. They weren't saying much to each other. There wasn't  
much to say really.

Once inside Methos stripped off his coat and started oiling and  
polishing his sword while Mac did katas with his katana to try and  
focus. Then Methos stood up and went to stand in front of Mac,  
sword ready.

"Spar?" Mac asked. Methos nodded, and they started to fight.

They tried to keep in mind that at any time they might need to fight  
for real, so this fight was a warm up. They needed to practice but  
they must not wear each other out. That became increasingly  
difficult to keep in mind however as the burning need to * do *  
something pushed them constantly, and the anger that burned even  
hotter kept urging them to do more. Both were in the frame of mind  
to take an Immortal life and both had to keep reminding themselves  
that the Immortal they were facing was not the one they hunted.  
They swung and parried, neither really gaining an advantage. Mac  
was surprised at that, at the way his friend had not only improved  
but changed, fighting from some cold place inside himself. Finally,  
they stood with swords locked together, grabbing each other's  
wrists, faces only inches apart.

"When we find Konoval, I get to take him," Methos told Mac, in a  
tone that expected no argument.

Mac pushed him away and stepped back, sword ready. "No way Methos.  
I've had this conversation once already, and I made the wrong  
choice. I'm not risking you."

"You don't get a choice, Highlander. I'm not Richie. I have been  
looking after myself for five thousand years, and as you can see  
just because I don't like to fight doesn't mean that I can't."

"You don't like to fight. So let me."

"Oh I want this fight Highlander. I want Konoval's head. I want  
Richie's Quickening." Methos finished in a near whisper.

"Methos, let me face him. I'm better than you..."

"Want to bet on that?" Methos said, going for him again and  
skimming his side as Mac only just dodged out the way, then grabbed  
his arm and held him there.

"Okay, so maybe we're just about as good as each other." Mac said,  
breathing a bit heavily and gripping Methos' arm tight against his  
still stinging side. "Richie was important to me too. Why should I  
let you kill Konoval? Either one of us could do it."

"Because I can make it take longer." replied the ancient Immortal  
grimly, glaring at the Highlander. Mac realised that it wasn't just  
Methos in those old eyes right now, it was Death.

And for the very first time he was glad.

Mac grinned a feral grin and released Methos, who stood up waiting  
on his answer. "Then he's yours, Brother." Duncan quipped,  
lowering his sword and holding his hand out to the other man.

Methos looked shocked for a moment, then saw that Mac might just  
actually understand what he was saying. He nodded, then reached out  
to grip wrists and seal their agreement. "I will pay him well for  
everything he has done," Methos vowed.

They stood like that for a long moment until the sense of Presence  
assaulted them. They both grinned mirthlessly and turned to the  
door.

"Bad timing Konoval," Methos muttered, raising his sword and  
pulling out his dagger.

"Show yourself," Mac called out, raising his katana, something  
about the identification bothering him but too eager for this fight  
to pay much attention. "We're ready for you."

A blonde, muscular figure in a long coat stepped into view, a  
silhouette since the light of the hall was behind him and the office  
light that was all the two men had been using to fight by didn't  
reach that far.

"Time to pay," Methos declared quietly and stepped forwards.

"Woah, guys... relax! Ya know this isn't exactly the welcome I was  
expecting," A very familiar voice called out as the figure stepped  
forwards.

The two older Immortals' swords hit the floor along with their jaws  
as they gaped in disbelief.

"Richie?!?" Mac gasped.

Rich stepped near enough they could see him and his thousand watt  
smile quite clearly. "The one and only. What, you didn't believe  
in me?"

Then the other two rushed forwards and they were all hugging and  
kissing and just reassuring themselves this was real. Richie got  
one arm around Mac but the other was busy trying to make sure the  
sword imperfectly hidden in his coat didn't do anyone permanent  
damage.

"Now * that's * more like it," Richie gasped when he was finally  
allowed up for air.

"Is that a sword in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"  
Methos muttered, a little silly from relief, as he removed the  
hindrance and pulled Richie into a more intimate embrace. Mac  
stepped back a little, not much since Rich still had an arm around  
him.

"Richie... what happened? You died... I mean, I thought I felt..."

Methos considerately left Richie's mouth free to answer with and  
moved on to his neck, partly checking for new scars. "You better  
have a bloody good reason for scaring us like that," he mumbled  
against him.

"It's kind of a long story guys..." Rich said, more or less trying  
to push Methos away so he could explain coherently. "See what  
happened was..."

-end part 6-

Pay Time 7/8

&lt;=====  
Flashback, the night before, around midnight at the warehouse

Rich had arrived a bit early and found somewhere to park his bike  
nearby yet far enough it wouldn't get hit by a Quickening or be  
obvious if the guy tried to run. Then as they'd hoped he found a  
side door, away from the one Mac was directed to use. It was  
boarded shut but Rich had the tools to get it open.

He didn't know if he had the time. If he got this wrong, if his  
buzz wasn't covered by Mac's, Methos was history. And the worst  
part of it was with them approaching from different angles he  
couldn't just move when he felt Mac, that would be too late. He had  
to trust the Highlander would be exactly on time and whichever gods  
looked after beloved Immortals would give them just a small break.  
He sent a quick prayer to a few of the most likely ones while he  
waited.

Exactly when his watch ticked to the hour Rich went for the door.  
He didn't sense anyone yet. That could be good or worrying. It was  
a large warehouse, but... then he got the boards off the door and  
there was no more time to worry. He slipped inside and wedged the  
door closed again, then moved towards the light slowly. He could  
see the Immortal bounty hunter and his hostage there, and in a  
moment he sensed them... And Konoval sensed him, no thank the gods  
sensed them, as Mac stepped through the well lit door at the end of  
the room. Konoval looked up at the Highlander and never suspected  
the other presence.

Rich crept closer, hiding in the shadows as Konoval gloated. He saw  
Mac reluctantly throw down his sword, far enough to be convincing  
but close enough to get it back on his way to Methos. Hopefully.  
He winced slightly at the way Methos' corpse just crumpled and hit  
the floor when Konoval dropped it. His face went grim when he saw  
the red stained concrete of the floor and pillar and the very  
mangled state of his lover's body. He privately swore to himself he  
would pay back every cut in kind.

Konoval ordered Mac to drop to his knees, and for a horrible moment  
Richie thought he would object and screw the plan, but he glanced  
over at Methos' still body and for once swallowed his pride. He  
knelt down.

Konoval chuckled and shook his head. He'd moved forwards, maybe too  
close to Mac but far enough away from Methos. "Makes me glad I  
don't have friends. Who'd want them, when this is all it gets you?"  
he asked, and raised his sword to strike.

Time.

"Oh, I don't know, there are some advantages," Rich called from the  
shadows beside them. Konoval swung round instinctively to look for  
the new threat, and in the moment he was distracted MacLeod rolled  
past him, grabbed his katana, and came up between Konoval and  
Methos, sword ready.

Konoval looked back at Mac, started to bring his sword around, but  
then Richie stepped out into the light. Konoval looked dead scared  
for a moment. Well, soon he'd just be dead. Rich smiled slowly and  
made his challenge. "You have two options, Konoval. You face the  
Highlander, or you face me. Take my advice. Choose him."

Konoval backed up, looking around to keep track of his enemies, and  
his escape routes. He asked "And who might you be?"

"Richie Ryan."

Konoval looked over at the Highlander, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan  
MacLeod, then back at Richie. He made his choice. "Jack Konoval.  
You and I need to take this elsewhere, I think."

Rich grinned coldly, satisfied. There were advantages to being the  
kid. That choice was the last one Konoval would ever make. "Fine  
by me. Not too far, I want to get this over with."

"Not a problem," Konoval replied, trying to look tough again, but  
Rich had seen what he really felt. He waved back at the side door.  
"Shall we?"

Rich turned to give Konoval just enough space to walk past without  
being in sword reach. "Yeah, I think we shall." He waved for  
Konoval to go first.

"Rich..." Mac started to say.

"Get him some place safe," Richie ordered, cutting him off. "I'll  
take care of Konoval." he stared at MacLeod, his determination  
quite evident. Reluctantly, Mac nodded. Richie turned back to  
Konoval, and gestured for him to lead on.

"Really, people are just queuing up to lose their heads over this  
guy. Must be really great in bed," Konoval sniped as he walked  
off.

Richie's sword arm twitched but he managed to keep himself in check  
as he followed Konoval off into the darkness.

He kept close. He knew this guy liked to think of himself as some  
great predator, but he was just a weasel really. Vicious, but not  
too smart and not too brave either. He had no stomach for a  
straight out fight, and Rich fully expected him to make a run for  
it. He wasn't disappointed. Konoval turned a corner then took off  
as fast as his fancy boots would carry him, with Richie right behind  
him.

The pace was no problem to Rich, and unless the guy ran clear across  
town he knew he could keep up with him. He ran every morning with  
Mac, this was a piece of cake. What he worried about was where he  
was running to. A scheming bastard like Konoval always had an  
escape planned.

Sure enough it wasn't far before Konoval got to the fancy four wheel  
drive he'd parked back here earlier. There he got a shock that  
wiped the smug grin off his face yet again.

His car, expensive, fast and covered in security gadgets though it  
was, sat on bricks with its tyres gone. Windows smashed, wiring  
pulled out, trunk empty, in short it was totally stripped. Richie  
laughed out loud as Konoval cursed colourfully. &gt;&gt;Score one for  
street crime. The things that turn out to be useful...&gt;&gt; Rich  
thought.

Then Konoval grabbed for something inside his coat and Richie,  
remembering the bullet hole, dived out of the way. Unfortunately  
for him, not quite quick enough. Konoval fired off a whole clip  
into his chest and stomach, then casually wandered over, sabre ready  
to finish the job.

He only took two steps. Rich was down merely seconds, then he  
coughed and flipped himself up to his feet again. Right then  
Konoval went very pale and, rapidly adjusting his estimate of the  
'kid's' age and power, looked to be just about shitting himself.

Rich grinned slowly at him and started jogging along behind Konoval  
as the other Immortal took off at a panicked dead run. The ache in  
his chest was fading rapidly, the nasty bruises the bullets had left  
when they hit his body armour no big deal to an Immortal. &gt;&gt;Kevlar,  
your inflexible friend. Thanks Viv.&gt;&gt; Rich thought with a mental  
chuckle, then sped up after his prey. No way was he letting this  
one get away.

Konoval was just running now, no plan but to get away from the  
Immortal he now believed to be considerably older than himself.  
He'd used up his back up plans, now he was in full retreat. He  
didn't know the area and the further he ran the more the fear ate at  
him. This was not in the plan. He knew nothing about his opponent,  
except he could apparently hide his buzz and shrug off bullet wounds  
that would have put Konoval down for the best part of an hour. This  
was not good. This was definitely not good. Konoval was panting  
already, more from fear than fatigue but the effect was the same.  
He was winded and he couldn't seem to shake this demon that he'd  
managed to annoy.

Rich was feeling good. The adrenaline pushed back the fear and the  
anger pushed away the doubt. This man had tried to kill his  
friends, he had hurt Methos, and he wasn't going to see another  
sunrise. It was as simple as that. He saw the bastard start to  
slow down, looking about for anything that could help him, but this  
was a good area for not being noticed. No one was around, no doors  
were open, and the further he ran in this direction the more empty  
and dilapidated the buildings got.

Finally, Konoval turned a corner and realised a split second too  
late that it was a dead end. What looked like a street was the  
loading area between two old, shabby warehouses with tall concrete  
steps out the back to make it easier to roll stuff off the back of  
trucks. The opposite side of the area was a tall wall that had  
probably once been the back of another warehouse. There was no way  
through. He turned, but then he realised, the demon in black had  
caught up to him. The only way out was through him.

Well, then that was the way it would be. He backed up into the  
clear space behind him, watching his opponent stalk forwards with  
bastard sword held steady before him. His breathing was even, he  
was barely sweating. What the hell had he got himself into?

&gt;&gt;Keep calm, Jack, he's just a kid. He's got to be a kid, you never  
heard of him. What was his name? Ryan?&gt;&gt; he tried to reassure  
himself.

"So, Richie, you're that eager to die," Konoval taunted, pulling  
the shreds of his arrogance back on. But it was one thing to throw  
gibes like that from a position of strength, holding a sword to  
their friend's neck. It was quite another to try it while backing  
away from someone who'd seen you show fear. Ryan just threw him  
that damned shark smile of his and held his sword higher.

"When you're ready," Rich said confidently, not pressing his  
advantage yet, quite confident the other guy wouldn't have the guts  
to stand back and get his breath back.

He was right. Konoval dived forwards and swept his sabre across at  
the level of Richie's knees. Rich blocked easily, not letting  
Konoval slide his blade off like he wanted to, knocking it back and  
jabbing at his stomach. Konoval leapt back to get out of the way  
and Rich followed through with a quick swing at his neck that came  
close enough to leave him very rattled. Konoval stumbled against  
the concrete beside him and thought maybe he'd have the advantage if  
he got the high ground. He threw his empty gun at Richie's face and  
while he batted it aside with his sword Konoval swung himself up to  
the platform.

Once there however he realised the height wasn't working as well for  
him as he'd hoped. He only had access to Rich's head and shoulder  
areas, places he was well able to defend with solid, square blocks  
and parries. Ryan on the other hand could hack and chop at his legs  
and the angle he had to defend himself at was awkward for blows of  
that power. He couldn't quite direct them away and one took a chunk  
out his calf. He staggered back, hopping and silently ordering his  
Immortal healing to kick in. This was going badly. He bumped along  
the wall behind him, hoping to get to the end of the platform  
nearest the road out, but Ryan saw that and went over to swing  
himself up that end. Konoval bumped backwards along the wall,  
testing his leg every couple of steps and hopeful of it soon being  
up to bearing his weight again. His shoulder bumped into a  
protruding piece of the big loading doors, and he realised there  
were gaps and broken places in it. Nothing he could fit through,  
especially with Ryan up on the platform and advancing towards him,  
but on the other side... he risked glancing away and saw a deeper  
darkness that just might be a way in, or for him a way out of this  
losing fight. He looked back, saw Ryan way too close, and ducking  
he drew out his boot knife and threw it underhand up into Ryan's  
chest before rolling off the platform again and landing with a  
grunt.

Richie paused a moment to pull the knife out where it got wedged  
between his vest and his shoulder. He wondered briefly if wearing  
armour would be considered cheating, then thought considering how  
long it had been common practice probably not, and even if it was  
shooting someone in the back was worse. He chucked the knife at  
Konoval's back as the other man scrambled up the opposite platform,  
but missed.

&gt;&gt;What the hell is he doing? Why is that any better than here?&gt;&gt;  
Rich thought as he swung himself down and jogged over. As he pulled  
himself up he saw Konoval force his way in through the broken door.  
&gt;&gt;Oh, so you think you can lose me in there, do you.&gt;&gt;

"I've got news for you, you bastard. I'm the pay back you've been  
earning all your life. You won't get away from me," Richie yelled  
as he easily slipped through the break made by the larger man, then  
ducked and rolled on instinct. Good instinct, as a knife went  
through the opening where he'd been briefly silhouetted. &gt;&gt;How many  
weapons has this guy got anyway?&gt;&gt; Rich thought as he got to his  
feet and gave his eyes a moment to adjust. If Viv in full battle  
dress was anything to go by, it could be a lot. He would have to be  
careful.

He looked around, the inside of the warehouse dimly illuminated in  
the orange light pouring through the holes in the roof. Rich  
stalked forwards slowly, sword raised. He looked around.

The warehouse had once been a three level building, the loading area  
they had broken into, one floor above, and one below. Now the top  
floor was history, as was most of the roof, leaving this floor a  
mass of broken beams and loose tiles. He couldn't see Konoval, but  
neither could he see any evidence of another door. The walls had  
seemed solid on the way past. He was pretty confident he had  
Konoval trapped in here.

He also knew a cornered animal was at its most dangerous.

He picked his way forwards carefully, wary of his footing and not  
quite able to be sure if any given heap of rubbish concealed a man  
with a sword or not. The light gave him outlines, no real colours,  
and his depth perception would probably be off. That was bad. He  
had a work flashlight he could clip on his jacket but that would  
make him a target and... he ducked again as something whistled  
towards his back... he was having enough problems with that right  
now anyway.

"Come out and face me, Konoval! What, are you afraid? You seemed  
eager enough to use that pretty sword before! Gold plating doesn't  
improve your technique any though, does it?" Richie called out,  
scanning the area the projectile had come from for movement. He  
twisted one way as something moved out the corner of his eye but saw  
only a cat, moving out fast as its den became a battle ground for  
other creatures. Then from the other direction came a scratch and  
clatter and he turned fast enough to catch a glimpse of Konoval's  
coat billowing out behind him as he jumped down off one of the  
larger piles of debris.

Rich ran and jumped up on top of the same heap in a different place  
then barely caught his balance as he found a large hole leading down  
to the completely dark lowest floor. He wobbled there a moment then  
Konoval took a swipe at his legs, his sabre glittering as it swept  
around. The light alerted Richie barely in time to risk a leap to  
the other side of the gap, the sword nicking his leg as he jumped,  
but he landed on the other side and with some relief found the  
lighter area had been solid floor after all. He was rapidly  
deciding this was absolutely the last place he would chose to fight.

"Well, now we're even, kid," Konoval called from further off in the  
darkness.

Richie took a couple of hesitant steps forwards, then decided enough  
was enough and got out the torch. It fitted in the front pocket and  
illuminated a neat area for about four steps ahead of him. Trouble  
was those four steps were now the only part of the warehouse he  
could see. Still, he heard movement from the far side of the room  
and figured that had to be Konoval.

As he headed for the noise he realised the two of them had gone in a  
circle most of the way round the edge of the room. And then he saw  
Konoval, back lit by the light leaking in the door, almost to the  
entrance again.

"See you around, kid," he called back, laughing, then jumped down.

And down, and down with a screech until with a wet thud he hit  
something on the level below. The treacherous footing had finally  
caught him. Rich grinned and headed quickly for where Konoval had  
fallen, thinking it was nice to have karma on your side for a  
change. By his work light he could see the worst bits of floor  
clearly and got to that particular hole before Konoval had finished  
picking himself up.

One of the major roof beams made an easy ramp down not ten feet  
away, and he advanced by that route as Konoval staggered to his feet  
again. Once down the pit the way back up wasn't one either of them  
could take with someone coming after them. This fight would finish  
here.

"Well, Konoval, it's just you and me. No tricks, no traps, no way  
out. You ready to die?" Rich asked in an almost conversational  
tone, circling towards him over clear bits of floor.

Konoval was injured and afraid. "Look, kid, it was just business.  
You know, I've got to make a living. And the rest was the Game.  
With the Gathering here how could I miss a chance like that?"

Rich was most unimpressed. "So fight. There can be only one, and  
it's not going to be you, not after you hurt my friends."

He tried to cut a deal. "Kid, you know I'm rich. Tell you what,  
I'll give you half of everything I got," he said, arrogance gone,  
staggering back trying to get out of the light.

Rich just kept advancing steadily.

"You can have all of it! I don't care. Just let me walk away, I'll  
transfer the lot, you know I make a deal I stick to it. Please."

Rich's face was blank as he hissed "No deal." and swung at him.

Konoval parried, just. This floor had less debris so he didn't have  
to worry about his footing, he just kept backing away and parrying  
and looking for an opening. His left arm and most of his ribs were  
only half way healed but his opponent was fresh. The light got in  
his eyes, he followed the glitter of the sword blade rather than the  
movements of its wielder and he knew that was a bad move but the  
other guy's black clad outline just faded into the shadows.

Richie watched his opponent back away, beaten and knowing it, but  
the fear in his eyes didn't give him any particular satisfaction.  
Now this was just something that had to be done, a rhythmic pattern  
of cuts and swipes that forced the other man's parries into a  
pattern too. And then, just like in practice, there was the opening  
and he thrust his sword in straight for the heart.

Konoval was good. He jumped sideways at the last moment and almost  
dodged the blow. But he was not quite good enough. Richie's gothic  
bastard sword impaled him through the shoulder of his sword arm and  
he knew it was all over. He dropped to his knees, dropping his  
sword next to him.

"Kid... please... let me pay you..." Konoval panted weakly, looking  
up at the shadowed face of his requital.

Rich tugged out his blade and raised it over his head. "It's  
settled. You'll never touch him again."

Then the sword dropped.

Konoval's head hit the floor and rolled into darkness.

Richie stepped back a few paces and switched off his torch, not  
hopeful of it surviving the Quickening but putting it away just in  
case. Then the body started to glow and he braced himself for what  
was to come.

The mist flowed up in a spinning column above Konoval's body. It  
pulled light up in itself until the room was practically floodlit,  
light stabbing up and out the holes in the floor above and shining  
through what was left of the roof. It spread along every surface  
and wall, coating the ceiling like blue fire. The air moved up  
towards it, like the world was taking a breath.

Then the world roared.

Lightning struck out from the column level with the ground and hit  
Richie square in the chest, his arms jerking up and his back arcing  
in a familiar response to the pain/pleasure that hit him.

The Quickening. All that had been Jack Konoval, everything he had  
known, every Immortal he had killed, it all flowed from the column  
of light along that electric link to Richie Ryan, the man who had  
just defeated him. Rich felt it flow into him, faster than he could  
process, more powerful than he could cope with at once and he  
screamed loudly, the power flowing in and pushing the scream out  
with nothing he could do about it. As it built up he felt the  
recently familiar sensation of distance somewhere in the back of his  
mind, like some part of him was elsewhere while it felt this. The  
next instant the Quickening had him full force and he couldn't spare  
thought for observation. Every part of him was caught up in this  
overwhelming rush.

Then the column of light rushed down towards him, and the warehouse  
came with it.

Every surface the mist had touched, the ceiling, the walls, the roof  
and all the debris were pulled back with the mist, straight towards  
Richie. In seconds the weight had crushed him flat against the  
floor, and he died, even the awesome life giving power he was  
receiving not able to sustain a body that was currently approaching  
two dimensional.

That left more than half the power unleashed and with no obvious  
place to go.

It chose to go out.

The explosion lit the sky and carried the debris away in every  
direction. It knocked the warehouse flat and if it hadn't been  
centred mostly underground it would have taken out most of the  
block. As it was it blew holes in neighbouring foundations and took  
out the opposite warehouse and the old wall at the end of the  
street. Even that didn't calm the Quickening storm. Lightning  
stabbed out at random, some stabbing Rich's dead body and some  
Konoval's corpse with no effect on either one but most just hitting  
the floor randomly like a miniature thunderstorm. Then, finally, it  
was over, and the two bodies lay there in the centre of the blast as  
distant sirens signalled the emergency response of the normal world.

Across the now still and empty space hissed the echo of distant  
anguish...

 

~... Methos.... I think I felt him die......~

 

=====&gt;  
Richie's welcome back, Mac's Dojo, soon to be on the Dojo floor at  
this rate...

Rich finished his narration, Methos still enthusiastically making  
sure that every inch of him was alright. "... I guess someone  
called about the collapse and we got dug up. Anyway, I woke up in  
the morgue, again. Found my sword and amulet, couldn't find my  
clothes or my vest. I had to get back across town in a lab coat and  
some shorts I found." Rich noticed with some interest that the  
combination of the after-effects of the Quickening and the  
sensitivity he felt everywhere he had healed was amplifying Methos'  
attentions. He felt his borrowed shorts getting tighter and then  
remembered the previous owner had probably died in them. "Look, if  
there's anything else you got to know, can it wait?" Rich said to  
the both of them, pushing his lover away with a bit more resolve  
this time. "I really have to get out of these clothes," he  
smirked. "Seriously, I gotta have a shower, I'm a real mess."

"A shower sounds good to me," Methos smirked back at him.

Mac nodded and stepped back. "I'll call Joe and tell him the good  
news. Then we've got to get you out of Seacouver. I'm sorry Richie  
but you're dead here now. More people know you here than Paris, you  
can't just hide and hope..."

"Mac, relax. I didn't take my wallet and, well, I was pretty  
unrecognisable when they dug me up."

"Are you sure? If you get declared dead..."

"Mac, I was flatter than road kill. Really, I saw the autopsy file  
on me, it said 'Give up on dental records, try DNA'. And I know my  
DNA isn't on file anywhere yet."

Mac winced at the mental image as he led Richie over to the lift.  
"Well... if you're sure. It's good to have you back Rich," he said  
with a slight quaver in his voice, hugging him briefly before he  
pulled the door down on the three of them.

"It's good to be back," Rich agreed, then lightly slapped Methos'  
hand away as he tried to make it even better.

"Methos... I just have to shower. And maybe get some sleep. I've  
been out a long time, but most of that time I was dead. I'm pretty  
tired."

"Of course, brat. We can pick this up again later," Methos  
promised, less joking than he usually managed. Loving Richie was  
proving to be very hard on the heart.

-end part 7-

Pay Time 8/8

 

The next evening at Joe's the three Immortals celebrated, getting  
mildly drunk on the free beer Joe was providing. The Watcher hadn't  
said much when Richie turned up alive, just waved them over to a  
table with four beers already on it, but he had to blink a lot for a  
moment. That was twice he'd thought his young friend dead. It had  
been too many the first time.

They chatted about Konoval, trying to put recent events into perspective.

"I can't understand how anyone can be so focused on money. You get  
money, you use it to live on. You don't gold plate your sword hilt  
and spend all your time earning more," Mac remarked.

"From what we learned the guy had so much money he could buy his own  
country, but he just loved gold. Had great heaps of it, couldn't  
get enough of the stuff," Joe said.

"So I guess it's rather appropriate that such a rich man had a Rich  
end," Methos smirked, and the others groaned at the bad pun.

"So even a million dollars wouldn't be much to him. It's a stupid  
thing to die for, let alone kill for," Mac said.

"He didn't die for the money, he was trying for your head," Methos  
corrected.

"You know * that's * what's been bothering me," Richie realised.  
"We figure he had a deal with Arthur to bring you back alive. But  
he was going to let you go in exchange for Mac's head. He figured  
Mac would trust him enough because for him a deal's a deal."

"Yeah, so he said. He could have just been lying Rich," Methos  
said reasonably.

"No, Richie's right. Konoval keeps his deals. He did when I met  
him and the Watchers say the same," Mac said, thinking about it.

"Only this time he was going to break one or the other," Richie  
said, still bothered. "I mean, if you're going to start double  
dealing then the Highlander's Quickening is a good reason to..."  
Mac raised an eyebrow, and Rich quickly corrected "...I mean from  
their point of view. Still, what if he wasn't going to break a  
deal? We know what he said to Mac, but we don't really know about  
Arthur, if that's who the money man was. What if Konoval just,  
like, saw a wanted poster or something. Not that they do that any  
more."

Methos went serious. "No, but there are ways... Damn. You're  
right." He got up and pulled his coat back on. "That means there  
are others. And that means Adam Pierson has to disappear for a  
while. Sorry, I'll be seeing you." he nodded to the other guys at  
the table, turned and started to go.

Richie got up hurriedly and followed him. "Hey, M- Adam, wait a  
minute." He caught up with him just outside the door, where Methos  
turned and looked at him a moment. Methos drew breath to say  
something, then couldn't find the right words.

"You're leaving now? Just like that?" Richie asked, trying to keep  
his voice level.

Methos glanced at the floor, then looked at Richie, trying to let  
his eyes say what he couldn't, how much he loved him and that if he  
didn't leave now he just wouldn't be able to at all. "I never said  
I would stay." he said quietly, almost apologising. "I'm sorry,  
Rich. If there are others after me..."

"Yeah, * if * there are. It was just an idea."

"An idea that made sense Rich. I've been too predictable lately.  
Like he said, if I'm not in Paris then I'm here. If one man I've  
never heard of knows to look for me where the Highlander is then  
there are probably others. He had a sword to my neck, Rich. He  
could have killed you. I can't let that happen again," Methos  
said.

"So you just leave. Let me come with you. I can go get my  
passport, wherever you want to go I can go with you. I was packed  
to leave anyway before you turned up again. You could show me  
what's to like about Tibet," Richie half heartedly grinned, but he  
already knew what Methos' answer would be.

"No Rich. I'm sorry. I can't. If I could... but I have to  
disappear. Between this and the Watchers I should maybe even kill  
off this life, though since they all know I'm Immortal that won't be  
as much use."

"Come on, Methos, you don't have to leave right * now *. How many  
Immortal bounty hunters can there be?"

"A lot, Rich. It's one of those professions that actually suits the  
way we have to live. There are men out there much better at it than  
Konoval, and for a million they'll be after me. Rich... I'm sorry.  
I'd stay if I could," Methos admitted almost in a whisper, looking  
into Richie's gorgeous blue eyes. Oh yes, he'd stay with this man  
for lifetimes if he could. But their lives didn't work that way.

Richie looked into his eyes and saw the pain there. He threw his  
arms around Methos and hugged him tightly. "I know," he whispered,  
then pulled Methos into a deep kiss. He tried to put into that one  
kiss all that he felt for this man, and Methos did the same in  
return, giving each other as much of themselves as they could in the  
time they had. Eventually, it had to end. They stepped apart  
slightly and looked into each other's eyes. Richie was the first to  
let go. He stepped back and let his arms drop to his sides.

"If you're going, go. I'll see you again, later," Richie  
whispered, one hand going to the amulet he always wore.

Methos didn't miss the gesture. He swallowed hard. He might have  
liked something similar from Richie, but he didn't really miss it.  
Richie gave of himself, every time they were together. He looked at  
Rich, trying to etch this image into memory to go alongside all the  
other precious moments. He tried to think of something else to say,  
but really there wasn't anything. He just nodded, turned and walked  
away. Rich watched him for a moment, then turned and went back  
inside. What Methos didn't mention was he now had to go back to  
Richie's place to collect his things. He'd left them there thinking  
he could stay with him a while. That painful irony he kept to  
himself.

Back inside Mac watched as Richie slowly walked back to their table,  
concerned for his friend.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Richie sat down then looked over at him and shrugged. "What can I  
do. He does this. And if people are hunting him, it's probably for  
the best if he hides out for a while," Rich sighed, then reached  
for his beer and drained it. Silently Joe passed him a fresh mug.  
"Anyway, he'll be back."

-END-

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is more than a decade old. I hope I could do better now.
> 
> the formatting is because I pulled this copy from the Seventh Dimension archive, which got it from email.


End file.
